


Silent Devotion

by MapleMooseMuffin



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bottom Sylvain, Communication, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), They're still learning each other but they're so in love, Top Felix, blink and you'll miss it angst, can't believe you guys made that a tag, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22570222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleMooseMuffin/pseuds/MapleMooseMuffin
Summary: Sylvain is almost silent any time he cums. Felix wants to know why.He still wonders, though. If Sylvain has always been this way. If it's just with Felix that he’s so quiet. And then what that means – Sylvain has been with so many people and Felix is both openly competitive and privately protective by nature.If he's doing something wrong, he needs to fix it. And if he's doing something right, he wants to know.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 24
Kudos: 256





	Silent Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends!~
> 
> These two have consumed my thoughts as of late, and while trapped in a car for a 10 hour drive recently I hammered out 75% of this ficlet in a twitter thread. I've cleaned it up here, changed some things, and given it an actual ending now. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy!~

Sylvain is almost silent any time he cums. It's a fact that took Felix by surprise – with a reputation of being, well, a slut, he'd expected Sylvain to be rapturously loud and open. Voice stripping moans and shouts in the throes of pleasure.

Maybe that's a bit presumptuous. But at the very least he'd expected _something_ , more than the half choked gasp that seizes in Sylvain's chest a split second before he's spilling out across his chest and then sagging with an all at once rush of held breath.

Felix isn't disappointed, per se. It's not as though he comes crashing into a screeching climax when Sylvain coaxes him over the edge. (And then he has found his voice, murmuring “C'mon Fe, I wanna see you cum, wanna feel you inside me, please,” both begging and goading in a breathless tone that rips through Felix just before he shudders and groans, burying himself deep inside and clutching Sylvain's hips sharp enough to leave red crescent imprints of his nails. He'll press gentle kisses to those later, after they've washed up, a silent apology that Sylvain will wave away with a roguish smile and glinting pleasure in his eyes as he says, “I like being marked as yours.”)

He still wonders, though. If Sylvain has always been this way. If it's just with Felix that he’s so quiet. And then what that means – Sylvain has been with so many people and Felix is both openly competitive and privately protective by nature.

If he's doing something wrong, he needs to fix it. And if he's doing something right, he wants to know.

More likely it's the latter. Felix has managed to weave his way past the walls and façades to the true Sylvain Jose Gautier beneath the masks and false smiles, and Sylvain would complain if he had a reason to.

But still, it isn't exactly the 'silent scream' sort of climax he's read about in some of Sylvain's trashiest books. (And yes, Felix has read them too. Usually when Sylvain is away in Gautier and Fraldarius is left feeling a little more empty and a little bit colder. It's not a genuine interest in the 'plots' of these novels so much as an attempt at filling the space Sylvain leaves behind when he goes. A piece of him Felix can still hold when Sylvain’s miles north, skirmishing on Fódlan’s border instead of lounging in the corner of Felix’s office.)

(Sloppily written couplings can't hold a candle to Sylvain's terrible innuendos, but at least now Felix can appreciate the artistry of Sylvain's advances.)

It takes a while for Felix to bring himself to ask, though. It's odd for him to hold anything back – he's been straightforward to the point of rudeness more or less since the moment he spoke his first word. (It was 'Mine', directed at Glenn as he reached out with demanding fingers and a petulant pout his brother teased him about relentlessly for years to come.) But to ask why Sylvain is quiet in bed feels half like an accusation, and Felix has been trying to be more conscious of the way he talks to Sylvain.

The years of derisive snark and precisely aimed insults that cut like an Armorslayer are best left buried behind the war they’ve somehow dragged themselves out of. Now is the time for rebuilding, their territory and their bond alike.

When the words finally come, it's in the shape of a blunt, "I have a question."

And Sylvain cocks a brow at that because it's strange for Felix, to announce it instead of just asking outright. But there's a smile in his voice as he folds his arms behind his head on the pillow and says, "Alright, go for it."

Felix traces the shape of him with his eyes, sprawled naked after their latest round and waiting for Felix to join now that he's done cleaning up. Sylvain looks more than pleased with himself. He's loose and easy in a way that's far more handsome than his forced carelessness and false smiles. This comfort is genuine, the joy vibrant in his eyes even as it blends with a depth of love so vast it makes Felix's stomach drop out as if freefalling.

Those trashy novels always have lines about heroines drowning in their lovers' eyes. Looking at Sylvain, Felix thinks there may be merit to that.

Sylvain waits patiently, and maybe a tad more amused at Felix's long pause spent sweeping his gaze across Sylvain's naked body, but to call him out on that would only stroke his ego so Felix lets it go just this once.

"Whenever we do this," he says instead, gesturing vaguely from his own naked body to Sylvain's, and Sylvain's eye dance with a snicker he just barely buries as he nods for Felix to go on.

(“You can say fuck, Fe,” Sylvain said once through a mouthful of laughter, but 'fuck' is too impersonal and 'make love' too saccharine and romanticized for the way it feels to sink into Sylvain's body the same way Sylvain has buried himself in Felix's soul.)

Felix swallows a sigh and shifts to settle at Sylvain's right, leaning his back against the wall. Sylvain rolls his head toward him, smile warm enough to melt the snow falling outside.

"You're always so quiet," Felix finishes. It's not a question, in form at least. But Sylvain's eyes flicker wide and then soft. He shifts and pulls himself up so he's sitting in front of Felix and looking at him so tender and open it makes Felix feel scraped raw.

His everything is bared to Sylvain, and Sylvain too, bare in front of him, is his everything.

"Hey," Sylvain starts, sounding like he's coaxing a stray. He reaches out to take Felix by the wrist with a gentle hand. "You know I'm crazy about you, right?"

It’s a line he’s undoubtedly spilled to hundreds before, but this time it falls out earnestly, true concern and affection mixing together in the gentle cadence of his voice. Felix nods and even offers a tiny smile to show Sylvain he means it, that he isn’t just bobbing along with Sylvain’s tide as all the girls before likely had. Sylvain answers him with a grin so wide it holds all the warmth of the sun. The radiance of it warms Felix's cheeks.

"I just wanted to know if there was a reason," Felix says. "Normally it's hard to get you to stop being so loud, so I was curious." A little rough, but some ribbing here and there is to be expected, even if Felix is playing nice.

Sylvain certainly doesn’t seem to mind, at any rate. He snorts and shakes his head, and Felix takes a moment to fall in love with the way his eyes crinkle in the corners over that beautiful smile

"You wanna know a secret?" Sylvain asks, his tone saying he'll tell whether Felix answers or not. Felix lifts his brows for him to continue. "I _am_ loud with you."

Felix must make a face because Sylvain laughs then and tugs on his wrist, trying to draw him closer. Their knees knock, sitting criss-cross together on Felix's bed, as close as can be without one sitting on top of the other.

"I'm serious," Sylvain laughs, and Felix believes him but he doesn't understand it.

"That doesn't make any sense.”

Sylvain shrugs, eyes skimming away to stare down the bed. He takes Felix's other wrist up as well to trace his thumbs against both pulse points. But watching his face as he turns back, Felix can mark the moment Sylvain's smile turns rueful and pensive. The way his eyes harden before he speaks is a forewarning of the weight of his words.

"Back when I first started having sex, years ago, a lot of times it was in the dorms with you guys just a few doors away, or at local girls' houses after their parents went to sleep. I couldn't risk being loud, unless I wanted to be chased down with a pitchfork."

"From what I hear, you were anyway."

Sylvain flashes a careless smile and nods, saying, "Yeah, I sure had some wild adventures," with no hint of remorse. Felix would be lying if he said it didn't make him want to hit him, just a little.

"Stop daydreaming about leading on innocent farm girls."

"They weren't innocent, trust me."

Felix gives him a sharp look. Sylvain at least has enough sense to back down from whatever thread that was following.

"Anyway, my point was, I sort of grew into not really making a lot of noise. And later, in the war, when there weren't any older brothers or angry fathers to run me off? By then we were all just sick of being alone and afraid, and what most girls wanted out of me was a good time."

Felix remembers the feeling. Five years spent miles upon miles apart, with battlefields between them that slowed messengers and kept them all tethered to their own territories. The constant anxiety of never knowing when the next messenger would bring news of another dead friend. Any distraction, any release from that consuming cycle of thought was a goddess send.

Felix softly squeezes Sylvain's wrists, drawing him back from the past thoughts he sees darkening his eyes. Sylvain is always too close to being lost in his own head, where Felix can’t protect him. It makes him anxious.

"So,” he presses, and Sylvain comes back easy, eyes clear as they focus on Felix. Some of the tension eases out of Felix’s shoulders. “You're saying, being loud reminds you of then?"

Sylvain gives a half shrug.

"Eh, it's not like how reading a knight story reminds me of when we were at the academy. It's more that when I was loud with those girls, it was for them. Just like my big smiles and stupid, half-assed pick up lines – all fake and performed. Just part of the role I was playing."

Suddenly Felix never wants to hear Sylvain make a single sound in their bed again.

He squeezes Sylvain’s wrists again and says, perhaps too harshly, “You don’t have to be loud with me.” It’s a clumsy way of conveying everything he’s feeling – ‘ _I will never use you like them._ ’ ‘ _You are worth so much more than someone else’s sexual satisfaction._ ’ ‘ _I love you._ ’ But Sylvain lets go of his wrist to tenderly cup Felix’s cheek, and it shows in his eyes that he already knows.

“I can’t help myself,” Sylvain breathes. Felix frowns, and Sylvain’s other hand comes up to smooth the wrinkles in his brow as though that could do anything for his confusion. (It is a small comfort, still, to feel his skin against his.)

“What do you mean?” Felix can’t help but speak lowly, words barely mumbled in the shrinking space between them because suddenly the world seems so much smaller and to speak too loud would shatter their haven.

Sylvain’s voice rumbles just as low when he answers, lightly brushing his thumb over Felix’s bottom lip and leaning to confess.

“I mean, on my own I never make any noise. But with you, it’s like you rip the sound up through my throat. Normally I hold everything back, but with you, I can’t control it.”

His eyes are whiskey catching in the last rays of daylight, warming Felix through as they dip to his lips and back up. Sylvain looks helpless to it, and Felix goes a little breathless to think that it’s because of him.

They’re so close it barely takes a thought before he feels the slick slide of Sylvain’s lips against his own. Felix raises his hands to curl one around Sylvain’s neck and tangle the other in his hair, humming approval when Sylvain settles his on along his ribcage and at the jut of his hip. He is so obscenely warm. It makes the frigid cold seeping in past the fireplace all the more poignant, and Felix shivers, craving Sylvain with an ache like hunger in his throat.

He shifts, breaking one kiss just to start another and moves to straddle Sylvain just to feel more of his warmth. The press of their chests wrings a quiet, reverent sound low in Sylvain’s throat, almost too quiet to hear.

And Felix gets it, then.

Sylvain is _silent_ on his own. But these little sounds, the tiny groans and half choked off moans that wrench from his throat whenever Felix finds something particularly electrifying – these are sounds no one else has ever heard. Sounds drawn out from the innermost depths of his being. Proof of how deep a reach Felix has in his heart and soul.

Each tiny snippet of sound is like a diamond unearthed from its rocky casing, and they’re all drawn out by Felix’s hand alone.

A fever takes him, ravenous for every little sound he can coax from Sylvain’s lungs. Each barely there groan and breathy hitch. The imperceptible “Oh fuck,” that shivers past Sylvain’s lips when Felix pushes him back down, and the heavy sigh when Felix follows, pressing their bodies tight together. Sylvain’s hands turn eager and then desperate, until Felix is sucking already bruised skin along his neck and grinding back into him, and Sylvain shudders and pants out his name, “Fe, Fe, Felix,” filling the air, softer than the snowfall outside.

When Sylvain cums it’s with eyes rolling back and a choked out, “ _Felix_ ,” that shoots fire straight down Felix’s spine and shoves him over his edge. Felix moans loud enough for his voice to echo back to him off the high walls of his bedroom.

When he comes back to himself, he’s half slumped over Sylvain, who looks on the edge of passing out himself. Felix catches his breath and then draws back carefully, running soft hands – as soft as they can be after years of swordsmanship – along Sylvain’s hips. Sylvain gives a little sigh and Felix captures it in his heart alongside all the other little sounds he’s saved tonight.

“Goddess, I love you,” Sylvain snickers as soon as Felix has settled down, exhausted, at his side. He rolls his heavy body over, half wrapping Felix in a hug and half flattening him to the mattress, but it’s a good kind of weight to be settled under.

Felix lifts a heavy hand to stroke Sylvain’s hair back off his forehead to make room for a tender press of his lips right against his hairline.

“I love you too,” he breathes, as quiet as Sylvain’s tiny litany of sounds.

He’s met with the soft rumble of a snore and the barely there patter of heavy snow on his windowsill.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch more thread fics like this one as I write them on twitter [@maplmoosemuffin](https://twitter.com/maplmoosemuffin). Or just come talk to me about Sylvain and Felix. I have a lot of feelings about these stubborn fools.
> 
> Expect more Three Houses from me in the future! (And probably more vld, for those of you here for that. <3)
> 
> Thanks for reading!~


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